


Redraw the Lines

by angel



Series: Neal Hughes [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel/pseuds/angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese Hughes' son was kidnapped when he was three-years-old.  Twenty-four years later, when his daughter desperately needs a bone marrow transplant, Hughes discovers that his son has been right in his own office, working as Peter Burke's CI.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue & Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue breaks from canon during the events of Point Blank, and as such, many of the words belong to Jeff Eastin, writer of the episode. Also, I researched the hell out of the medical aspects of the story, but I'm not a doctor, so creative license was taken at times. 
> 
>  
> 
> _I dedicate this story to the memory of James Rebhorn. Hughes was one of my favorite characters, and I will miss him greatly in the last season of our beloved show._

Prologue

Neal heard Diana call his name, but he didn't care. He was so close to confronting Fowler, to confronting Kate's _killer_ that nothing else mattered. He grabbed the knife from the display case and sliced through the rope holding the banner without much thought. His body and mind felt both disconnected and so incredibly in-tune with each other at the same time. It was exhilarating. 

Gripping the banner tight, he got a few running steps in before launching out into open space. He braced himself, bringing his shoulder up and tucking his face against it just before smashing through the window. Acting on instinct, he released the banner, rolled to his feet, and pulled the gun from his waistband in fluid motions.

Seeing the fear on Fowler's face only made him angrier; he fired off a shot close but not too close to Fowler's head. "I have five shots left, that's the only warning you get." He advanced on Fowler quickly, forcing the other man backwards. 

Fowler got his hands up in a defensive position and said, "Whatever you think I-"

"Tell me why you killed Kate!" He glared and aimed the gun with even more intent. "You bought the explosives!"

"Caffrey."

"You blew up the plane to get rid of us."

"No."

"What was in it for you?"

"Jesus, Caffrey, you think you're the only one that lost something?"

Neal cocked the gun. "Don't play with me, Fowler."

"You think I wanted to spend the last year of my life chasing you and a stupid box? It cost me everything! My career is over. My wife's gone."

Neal let his arm fall for a moment, but he couldn't feel sympathy for the man that killed Kate, no matter how much Fowler was trying to gain it. He raised the gun again but it wavered in his hand despite his best effort. Suddenly, the door behind him burst open, and he instantly knew who was barging in. "Stay out of this, Peter!"

"Neal, put the gun down! Neal, don't do this!"

"You know he killed Kate." It was a statement, a fact in Neal's mind.

"I didn't kill her." Fowler's protest was quiet but firm.

"Yes, you did!"

Fowler dropped his hands and made a slight move closer to Neal. "You want to kill me, Neal? Go ahead and pull the trigger."

"Jesus, Fowler, you're not helping this. Neal, do not do this."

It was all he could do to keep tears out of his eyes. This bastard killed Kate in front of his eyes, and he had to pay. "I know he killed her. He killed Kate."

Neal felt his walls start to crumble in a way that terrified him when Peter's voice softened. " Listen to me, if you pull that trigger, you will regret it for the rest of your life, Neal. You're not a killer."

Fowler's eyes darted away before meeting Neal's again, and he really wanted to just pull the damn trigger, but his body wouldn't obey the command. He started to shake all over. "I want him to know how it felt. How she felt."

"Look at me. Look at me, Neal. Neal. Look at me, Neal. Come on." Neal couldn't help it. His eyes moved to Peter, and he could see the compassion and sympathy shining in Peter's eyes. "This isn't who you are." 

The gun dropped for a moment, but Neal looked back at Fowler and raised it again. However, the damage had been done, and Peter's words had gotten through to him. As much as Neal wanted to do it, the consequences were too great. He lowered the gun and felt Peter immediately pull it from his hands.

"Cuff him," Peter said, and Diana gently took his wrists and secured them behind his back with her handcuffs. 

Neal lost track of what happened for an unknown period of time, but when he finally came back to his senses, he was sitting in Peter's office at the FBI with a bottle of water in his hands. He was methodically shredding the label into tiny pieces while Peter talked on the phone in a tone of voice that he reserved solely for Elizabeth. 

Peter glanced over at Neal and said, "Hon, I've got to go, but I'll call you later and let you know about dinner."

"Where is he?" Neal asked as soon as the phone was back in its cradle.

"Neal-"

"Peter."

"Interrogation room one."

Neal was on his feet immediately, but his head swam and he had to put a hand against the wall to get his balance.

"Whoa," Peter was at his side before Neal felt steady. He put one hand on Neal's elbow and the other on his shoulder to try and get him to sit back down. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Neal put his hands on Peter's shoulders to push him away, but he wound up gripping Peter's shirt tightly in his fists. "He killed her. He killed Kate."

Peter pressed his lips together in tense line before nodding once. "He's confessed, Neal. He set the explosives."

Neal blinked against the sudden rush of tears. "Why?"

"He was being blackmailed by a man named Vincent Adler."

He gasped and dropped down into the seat so fast that Peter didn't get a chance to react until it was over. 

"Do you know Adler?"

Neal nodded but couldn't speak.

"How? Neal, come on. I need to know everything."

"I worked for Adler back when I first came to New York. About eight years ago." Neal hugged his arms around himself and looked up at Peter with wide eyes. "Kate was his assistant. That's how we met."

"What were you doing for Adler?"

"Acquisitions. It was a long con. Adler was worth millions."

Peter leaned against the edge of his desk and waited for Neal to say more.

"He wised up though, and his men came after me and Kate both, but I've always been good at running."

Peter sighed. "Fowler's wife was Adler's assistant too, probably after Kate was fired. She was killed on her way home from work one night, and Fowler hunted down the man who did it, killed him in retaliation. Unfortunately for him, Adler got it on tape and started blackmailing him. Adler wanted the music box, and he thought you had it, and he thought Fowler was the man who could get it from you. Since you were in prison, Fowler went after Kate, thinking that she knew where you'd hidden it. When she didn't, he took her hostage with the plan of ransoming her to you for the box."

Neal took a deep breath and shook his head. "All of this over a stupid music box?"

Peter reached out and patted his shoulder gently. "Look I'm going to get Jones or Diana to take you home. Take the rest of the day, and we'll talk in the morning."

Neal looked up, ready to protest, but Peter cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"It's a lot to process, Neal. Take some time. Fowler's not going anywhere but to prison."

Neal wanted to insist that he was okay to stay, but the truth was that he felt exhausted and completely wrung out. He wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for days. Scratch that. He wanted to drink a lot of wine and then curl up and sleep for days.

~~!!~~

Chapter 1

Reese Hughes stood on the dais of the White Collar offices and looked over his agents, interns, and Neal Caffrey. He'd called for everyone's attention, but now he wasn't quite sure he could say what he needed to say out loud. He took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

"As some of you may know, my daughter has been ill for some time. She's taken a turn for the worse, and I'm going to be taking a couple of months off to be with my family." There were gasps and murmurs of sympathy among the personnel, but Hughes didn't pause for more than a moment. "Peter will be in charge in the interim, and he'll be shadowing me for the rest of the week. That means that Agents Berrigan and Jones will be filling in for Peter, so anything you would take to Peter for the next couple of months should be directed to them. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded. Their solemn, concerned expressions almost did Reese in, but he had one more thing to say. "Now, I have a personal request. My daughter Emma needs a bone marrow donor, and so far neither her brother nor my wife and I have been matches. If anyone would like to be tested, we would be very grateful."

Several people nodded again, and Reese dismissed them with a simple, "Thank you."

Down in the bullpen, Neal turned to Peter and frowned. "I didn't know that Hughes had kids."

"Michael and Emma, I think are their names. El usually keeps track of that stuff." Peter shrugged and handed the file he'd been holding to Neal. "Take a look at this mortgage fraud, and let Diana or Jones know if you come up with anything."

"So I'm going to be reporting to them now?" Neal was curious how this whole interim ASAC thing was going to work. Diana and Jones could be strict with him, stricter than Peter for sure, but he could also work them to his advantage.

Peter smirked. "Yes, for most things. I'm still your official handler, and there will be times when I'll be supervising assignments, but for the most part, for the next two months, you'll be reporting to Diana and Jones."

Neal's eyes lit up, and he beamed at Peter. 

"Hey, no funny business. You're to give them with the same respect you give me."

Neal crossed his finger over his heart and held up the two-finger salute. "I'll be a perfect Boy Scout."

Peter just shook his head and walked away, up the stairs to the second level. He had faith in Diana and Jones, but Caffrey was slippery when not handled with care, especially recently. Facing Fowler and confronting the man who had killed Kate had not been Neal's finest hour, and Peter could see that there were still cracks in the façade. He hoped that Neal would start to come to terms with the loss of his girlfriend, but there was no way to really know what was going on inside his head. Peter hated not having all the information, particularly when it came to Neal.

Down in the bullpen, Neal watched Peter climb the stairs and walk into Hughes' office. Things were certainly going to be different around the office for a while.

"Caffrey," Diana called, causing Neal to turn around. She was standing by her desk holding an empty coffee cup. "I take my coffee with one cream, no sugar."

Neal held up the folder that Peter had handed him earlier as he sauntered toward her. "That's nice, but Peter gave me a case to work on."

She snatched it from his hand and flipped it open. "What do we have here?"

Neal made a grab for it, but she stepped back out of his reach. 

Diana raised an eyebrow at him over the folder. "This is a cold case. You can get my coffee and then get to work on this."

Neal sighed and took both the folder and the mug from her. He went into the kitchenette and made sure to add a healthy dose of sugar to her drink. Then, he dropped it by her desk on his way back to his own. 

When she spluttered the coffee out a few minutes later and called his name, Neal merely shrugged, and replied, "Didn't you say nine sugars?"

~~!!~~

The rest of the day progressed slowly. Neal read through the case file and then did some digging on the internet regarding the company behind the mortgage fraud. He was three shell companies deep in the mess when Peter walked over and rapped his knuckles on the one square inch of his desk not taken up by papers.

Neal looked up to see many of the other agents packing it up for the night. "Is it five already?"

"Yeah. Making progress on the case or playing Solitaire?" Peter asked, leaning over so that he could see Neal's screen.

Neal scowled at the implication that he would be that invested in Solitaire. "I'm trying to trace Byrdman Realty back to it's original owner. So far, I haven't had any luck."

"Pick it up tomorrow. El's invited you to dinner, which I think is code for 'Neal will appreciate my beef Wellington more than you'." 

Neal laughed and nodded. "I don't know why she cooks such things for you. You'd be just as happy with a meatloaf as you would with this."

"That's not true," Peter protested, while Neal grabbed his coat and hat.

"Peter, what's in beef Wellington?"

"Beef."

"And?"

Peter pressed the elevator's down button and squinted at the floor as he tried to remember if he'd even had beef Wellington before. "A sauce of some kind."

"Yeah, you're a regular connoisseur of fine food."

Rolling his eyes, Peter stepped onto the elevator car and held up two fingers to let Neal know to press the P2 button for the garage parking level. His phone dinged with a text message, and he checked it before cursing under his breath. 

"What's wrong?" Neal tried to get a glimpse of the phone, but Peter tucked it back in his pocket. 

"I forgot that El and I have an appointment to get tested and see if one of us is a match for Emma. Do you want to come?"

Neal nodded. "I was planning on setting up an appointment too. As much as Hughes is, well, Hughes, I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"Yeah, me either."

The doctor's office was outside of Neal's radius, but Peter made a call into the Marshals since it was after working hours. The procedure was a simple cheek swab, and the nursing staff was happy to squeeze Neal in during Peter and Elizabeth's appointment. They welcomed anyone and everyone who wanted to be tested. Within thirty minutes, they were on their way back to Brooklyn for dinner. 

~~!!~~

Almost one week later, on Monday, Neal got a call from the doctor's office where he'd had his cheek swabbed. While he hadn't forgotten about being tested as a match for Hughes' daughter, he'd been so busy working the case with Diana and Jones that it had been relegated to the back of his mind. 

"Hello?"

"Mr. Caffrey?" a pleasant female voice asked on the other end of the line.

"Speaking."

"This is Sharon, from Dr. Cartwright's office. Your test results came back as a preliminary match for Ms. Hughes. We would like to perform a blood test to confirm the results. Would you be able to come in tomorrow afternoon?"

Neal glanced up at Peter's office, where his handler looked busy, simultaneously pacing back and forth while talking on the phone. Then, he looked over at Diana and Jones, who were sneaking glances at him, obviously curious about him taking a phone call in the middle of trying to break a case. This was for Hughes and his daughter; they would let him have an hour off to do a simple blood test.

"Mr. Caffrey?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. What time tomorrow?"

"Will one p.m. work for you?"

"That should be okay. I'll have to speak to my boss. Do you have a number, in case I need to change the time?" Neal made a mental note of the number and turned to see if Peter was off the phone yet. 

Peter was now sitting behind his desk, typing something on his computer, so Neal headed up there and entered the office with a cursory knock. 

"Neal, I'm in the middle of some-" he abruptly broke off when he saw Neal's face. "What's going on?"

He took a deep breath and slipped into his usual seat across from Peter. "The doctor's office called. They think I'm a match for Hughes' daughter, and they want me to go back in tomorrow for blood work."

Whatever Peter had thought Neal was going to say, that wasn't it all. He smiled and nodded. "That's good news. You can have as much time as you need tomorrow. Just let Diana and Jones know when it is."

"What about-" Neal extended his left leg, reminding Peter about his anklet. 

"I'll extend your radius to include the hospital tomorrow afternoon." 

Neal nodded and stood. "Thanks," he said as he headed out the open door and down to the bullpen to fill in Diana and Jones.

~~!!~~

That night, Peter was still in the office at nine, long after the last probie had left for the night. He was finishing up a review of the team's last case when Kimberly Rice stepped into his office. 

"Burke," she greeted, as gruff as ever.

"Rice, what brings you up to the twenty-first floor?"

She held up a thin file folder. "Daniel Hughes."

Peter had been expecting this visit though not at nine o'clock the day that Neal got his test results. Only a few people in the FBI offices knew about Daniel, and most of them worked in Missing Persons. Daniel had been three years old when he'd been kidnapped from the park down the street from the Hughes' home. Catherine, Reese's wife, had left him for a few minutes, and then he was gone. 

A couple of times a year, Hughes had Missing Persons run a search in the database for anyone matching Daniel's description or the fingerprints that Hughes had the foresight to get from each of his kids when they were around two years old. So far, there had never been a hit, and though it was nearly impossible to match a child's fingerprint to an adult's with a computer, Hughes had never really given up hope.

"Word around the office is that Caffrey's a match for Emma."

"And that makes you think that he's Daniel Hughes? Neal's thirty-five. Daniel would be, what? Twenty-five?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Two months shy of twenty-seven. And age is just a number, Burke. You, of all people, know what Neal Caffrey is capable of. He's supposedly never revealed anything about his childhood, and you don't have any records of it."

Peter sighed but didn't rise to the bait. He didn't know any more about Neal's childhood than she did, but he wasn't sure he wanted to let her know that just yet.

"I'm putting in an official request to borrow him tomorrow, ask him a few questions." Rice crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down, practically daring him to say no.

"Not tomorrow, not until we know for sure that he's a match for Emma."

Rice looked surprised. "I was under the impression that it was a done deal."

"Well, you need to get a better gossip mill. Neal's going in for more tests tomorrow. If those come back positive, then he and I will sit down with you for some questions."

"You're not really going to hold his hand through this whole process, are you Burke? He's a grown man."

"What I do with _my_ CI is none of your business, Rice." 

"Fine, but Daniel Hughes is _my_ case."

"Understood." Peter was firm in his tone and flicked his eyes toward the door, effectively dismissing her. 

Once Rice had disappeared into the elevators, Peter deflated and rubbed his hands over his face. If Neal was Daniel Hughes, then his life was about to turn upside down. And Neal Caffrey's usual coping mechanism was to run.


	2. Chapter 2

The next afternoon, Neal was a few minutes early for his appointment with Dr. Cartwright, but the nurse led him back to an exam room right away. She took a vial of blood, and then led him to a small conference room where the doctor was waiting.

The doctor was a middle-aged, balding man who reminded Neal of Mozzie, which put him at ease pretty quickly.

"Hello, I’m Dr. Cartwright. Mr. Caffrey?" He stepped forward and held out his hand.

"You can call me Neal."

Dr. Cartwright smiled. "Have a seat. We're here to discuss a possible marrow match with a leukemia patient. I understand that the patient is someone that you know."

Neal shook his head. "No, I've never met her, but I work with her father."

"Ah, I see. Well, Ms. Hughes' doctor and I have discussed her condition at length, and we've determined that a bone marrow transplant would be best for her at this stage."

Neal took a deep breath and gripped the arms of his chair. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It's a fairly common procedure. We'll take some bone marrow from the hip and infuse it into Ms. Hughes."

Neal nodded, following along so far.

"Your part of the procedure will take about an hour, but you may need to be here in the hospital the whole day. It depends on several factors."

"Factors?" Neal's knee started to bounce. When he'd agreed to be tested, he'd had no idea what would happen if he was a match. He'd never spent time in a hospital, and he found the unknown of it to be unnerving. "What factors?"

Dr. Cartwright smiled gently at him. "How well you tolerate the procedure, what type of anesthetization you request, that kind of thing."

Neal's eyes widened. "Anesthetization?"

"Harvesting bone marrow is a painful procedure, so we'll administer either a regional or general anesthetic. It'll be the difference in whether you want to be awake or asleep through the harvest."

"Awake," Neal said immediately. "Definitely awake."

"Nothing has to be decided today. I just wanted to give you some basics about the procedure. Your participation is completely voluntary, so if you choose not to go forward--"

"I'm not going to back out," Neal asserted. "If the tests from today come back that I'm a match for Emma, then I will go through with the procedure."

Dr. Cartwright nodded. "I'm very glad to hear that."

Neal took a moment before asking, "What about Emma?" 

"Her part of the procedure, you mean?" When Neal nodded, the doctor continued, "Ms. Hughes will receive your bone marrow through a central venous line, which is very similar to an IV. It'll take several hours to infuse her, and then her doctors will monitor her for any sort of rejection. We don't anticipate any though. Your initial lab work almost matches hers to a T. I think this is going to be a very positive match."

Neal smiled softly at that. "I'll be glad to help out. Hughes is a good man, and I don't want his daughter to suffer any longer."

"That's a very good attitude to have, Mr. Caffrey. Do you have any questions at this time?"

"Are there any side effects? On my side, I mean."

"You'll be sore for a few days, and it might take a couple of weeks to get your full strength and energy level back. Assuming you do well with the anesthesia, and we have a great team, then you'll more than likely be discharged the same day as the procedure."

Neal sat back in his chair, feeling better about it now that the doctor had explained the procedure. "When will we do it?"

"Ms. Hughes is still finishing up her last round of chemotherapy, so it will be another week or two. That's assuming that your blood work from today comes back with the same results as before, which I fully expect it to. It is rather remarkable."

"Remarkable how?"

"Son, I've been doing this job for twenty years, and I've never seen anyone with results like yours outside of siblings. It's practically unheard of for a stranger to have the markers in common that you have with Ms. Hughes."

Neal didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded.

"That's all I have for today. We'll be in touch with the results, and if they are as I expect them to be, then we'll schedule everything."

"Thank you for your help," Neal said, as he stood and headed for the door. 

"The nurse will have a pamphlet of information for you on your way out. It has my business card in it. Please feel free to call us if you have any questions."

~~!!~~

It was less than twenty-four hours before Dr. Cartwright's office called with the results. Neal was pretty damn close to a perfect match. Appointments were set up for a physical exam and tentatively for the transplant itself.

That evening, Peter received another visit from Kimberly Rice. She was holding up two pieces of paper and though her mouth didn't so much as twitch into a smile, her eyes were lit up like it was Christmas morning.

"They match."

Peter held his hand out for the papers and compared them. They were printouts of enlarged fingerprints with the common markers highlighted. They all matched up on both pages. 

She tapped the edge of one of the papers and said, "Daniel," and the other and said, "Neal."

Peter dropped the papers onto his desk and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Jesus."

She gave him a moment to get himself together. "I'll need to interview Caffrey. Tomorrow would be best."

Neal was not going to take this well, Peter imagined, but he found himself nodding in response. "I want to be there."

"You're kidding me, right? One day, you're going to have to take the training wheels off and let him fall all on his own."

He glared. "Not tomorrow." 

"Fine. You can be there, but you stay silent. I will have you removed if you interfere with the interview."

Peter grimly agreed to the restriction, but he had one of his own anyway. "I would like to be the one to tell Reese and Catherine."

"The hell you will! This is my case, Burke. I've been running down leads for Reese Hughes ever since I've been in Missing Persons."

"Kimberly, you can run the case however you want, and you can interview Neal tomorrow, but someone who knows them – all of them – well needs to handle this."

She pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. It was hard to argue with his logic. She was friendly with Hughes but wasn't friends with him and his family. "Fine. Have Caffrey in my office tomorrow morning at nine sharp."

She was out the door before he had a chance to say anything more. Peter gathered his things, including the file that Rice had given him a couple of nights ago about Daniel Hughes and the copies of the fingerprints, and made his way toward the door. At the last minute, he turned and went up the stairs to Hughes' office where he pulled a photo of Reese and Catherine out of its frame and tucked it in with the paperwork. Then, he headed to the hospital where he was sure Reese and Catherine would be with their daughter.

Reese was the first to see him through the large glass window of Emma's room. Peter was standing in the hall with his hand poised to knock. Reese stood and met Peter at the door. "Peter? What are you doing here?"

"I have some news. Can I speak with you and Catherine outside?" Peter smiled to let them know that it was good news.

Reese motioned for Catherine to join them, and she gently placed a kiss on the sleeping Emma's forehead before following them down the hall to a waiting room that was deserted at ten o'clock at night. 

"What's this about, Peter?" Reese asked, reaching for his wife's hand.

Peter had been rehearsing this speech in the car on the way over, but he threw all that preparation out the window as he sat, looking into their eyes. Catherine's eyes were, shockingly, the same shade of blue as Neal's. 

He took a breath and simply said, "We found him. We found Daniel."

Catherine gasped and Reese squeezed her hand until both their knuckles were white. "What?" he choked out.

Peter handed a folder to them. "Many people in the office were tested to see if they were matches for Emma, and one turned out to be an unusually close match to her. When we – Rice and I – looked a little deeper, we found that his fingerprints match those on file for Daniel."

"Who-" Reese couldn't say anymore because he flipped the folder open and found a large, color photo of Neal Caffrey staring back at him. It took him a minute to raise his wide eyes to look at Peter. "Caffrey?"

Peter nodded. "He had a follow-up appointment with his doctor and was told how unusual a match he and Emma were."

"He told us that he'd found a very close match too," Catherine offered when Reese didn't say anything. "We asked for the name, but he wouldn't give it to us."

Reese frowned at that. "Doctor-patient confidentiality. I told him a little about Daniel and asked that he send the information to Kimberly Rice. It didn't have to be his name, but his social security number so that Rice could look into it."

Peter nodded. "The fingerprints don't lie, but we can run a DNA test, if you'd like."

Catherine reached out with her free hand to take the folder, and the photo, from Reese. "Does he know?"

"I haven't told him. I wanted to speak with you first." Peter knew that he'd made the right decision telling Reese and his wife first. The conversation with Neal was going to be much more difficult.

Reese nodded and turned his attention to his wife. She was tracing Neal's features with her fingertip, memorizing his face, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips, the blue of his eyes. "He has your eyes," Reese said softly. "I don't know how I didn't notice it before."

"He's so handsome," Catherine whispered. "Could this… Have we found him, Reese? After all these years?" Tears had gathered in her eyes and started to fall down her cheeks.

Reese reached up to brush them away with his thumb, and he pulled her into a gentle kiss. "We'll do the DNA test to be sure, but the fingerprints, and the matching blood tests for Emma. This has to be him, Cathy."

Peter stood and walked away to get some coffee and give them a few minutes alone. 

She let him hold her for several long moments before pulling reluctantly away. "How are you, Reese? Are you okay with this?"

"Okay? Of course, I'm okay. You know I've had Missing Persons do searches for him over the years."

"I meant, are you okay that it's Neal? I've heard you talk about him before. You disliked having him in your office, you disliked Peter teaming up with him, and you disliked all the paperwork necessary to keep him in check."

Reese sighed. "Caffrey's been a pain in my ass since the day Peter signed the papers to get him out of lockup, but that doesn't mean that he's not good at what he does. He's probably the best damn CI the Bureau's ever had, and he closes cases."

"So, you're okay then?"

He smiled and pulled her into another hug so that he could rest his chin on top of her head. "More than okay. Our family's whole again, Cathy. Emma will be okay, and we'll have all of the kids home one night for dinner. It'll be…" he trailed off, not knowing if there was a word for what it would be like.

"Amazing," she whispered to finish his sentence.

When Peter returned, they were waiting for him with hopeful smiles. 

"When can I meet him?" Catherine asked, before Peter even set the three cups of coffee down on the small side table nearest her. 

Peter's eyes cut to Hughes for a brief moment before he sat back down and took a sip of his drink. "I'm going to go talk to him after I leave the hospital. I can let you know when he wants to see you."

"Please do," she said. "Tell him that we've been looking for him for a long time, that we care about him very much, and that we want to get to know him."

Peter gave her a soft smile. "I will. I'll let you know when he's ready to see you."

They said their goodbyes, and the Hugheses returned to their daughter's bedside while Peter headed to June's. He'd checked Neal's tracking data on the way to the car and knew he was at home.

Neal was standing on the terrace with a glass of wine, looking out over the city when Peter let himself in to the apartment. He'd knocked, but no one had answered, so he'd used his key.

Peter scuffed his shoe over the threshold between the terrace and living room so that Neal wouldn't be too startled by his presence. 

Neal turned and smiled tiredly at his friend. "Hey. It's late. Do we have a case?"

"No," Peter replied. He took in the empty bottle of wine on its side and then picked up the half empty bottle of wine on the table and grimaced. "I really wish you had beer."

"Why would I need beer?" Neal moved over to the table to refill his glass. "What's going on?"

"Something's come up." Peter had no idea how to really go about telling Neal about what was going on, but he had to buck up and do it. He'd appointed himself to this task, and he couldn't back out of it. He grabbed a glass for Neal's cabinet and poured himself some wine. Then, he took a long swallow before changing subjects. "What do you remember about your childhood?"

"What's with the sudden interest in my early years, Dr. Phil?" Neal wasn't going to give up any information voluntarily. 

Peter cleared his throat, drank more wine, and changed tactics again. "Hughes' son Daniel was kidnapped when he was three-years-old. It happened in broad daylight and from a park right by their house. Catherine went back to the house for five minutes, and then Daniel was gone."

"Did they find him?" Neal was confused about where this was coming from and why Peter felt the need to share Hughes' personal life with him.

"We think so," Peter replied.

Neal was confused. He squinted across the table at Peter and frowned. "What does that mean?"

"There's no easy way to say this, and I'm not doing a very good job of getting it out, so I'm just going to say it. You're Daniel Hughes. You're Hughes' son."

"What?!" Neal got to his feet so quickly that his chair toppled behind him and hit the floor with a bang. "That can't be true. I had a mother, a really terrible mother, but a mother nonetheless."

"What do you remember from when you were three or four? Do you have any memories that far back?"

"I don't…" Neal ran his fingers through his hair as he paced away from Peter and then back again. "I don't know. I've been having these dreams, and I think that I'm really young in them, but they could just be dreams." He didn't mention that he'd started having them after Hughes talked to the team, and he'd found out that Hughes had a daughter named Emma. In his dreams, as a little boy, he called out the name Emma.

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture that he'd taken from Hughes' office. It was one that had been pushed to the back of Hughes' bookshelf because it was older, but it clearly showed a young Hughes and his wife. "Does she look familiar?"

Neal took the picture with a shaking hand and stared at the woman's startling blue eyes. His blue eyes, and the same eyes he'd see in some of his dreams, looking down at him with love and kindness.

"Your fingerprints match Daniel's. Hughes had all three of his kids fingerprinted when they were young, in case it would be needed."

"Why wasn't it caught before?" Neal asked quietly, still staring at the picture.

"It's difficult to match an adult's print to a child's. It has to be done by a person, and we never had any reason to believe that you might be Daniel before. In fact, Neal Caffrey is a few years too old."

Neal cracked a smile at that. "I didn't want anyone to know how young I was when I first came to New York. When I created Neal Caffrey, I gave him a respectable age."

"What? Twenty-one?"

Neal winced. "Eighteen."

Peter's eyes narrowed as he did the math. "You were twenty-two when you went to Sing-Sing?"

Shrugging, Neal picked up his glass and finished off his wine. "You caught me."

So much of Neal's life, which Peter didn't understand before, suddenly made sense. Kate had been his first love, but he'd clearly been very young when he met and fell for her. To be honest, Peter had never understood what Neal saw in her, but his infatuation was now understandable. Peter had been much the same way with Elizabeth in the first years after he met her. 

Neal poured himself another glass, and Peter held out his glass for more too. 

"What do you remember about your childhood?"

Neal shook his head and moved away from Peter to stand at the retaining wall again. "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Neal-"

"She was a terrible mother." He said it quietly as he stared out over the city. "She loved playing with me when I was young. We had great adventures all over the States. We were always moving around, until I needed to start school. That's when we settled in St. Louis, and she started dating one loser after another."

Peter was silent. He took his drink and moved to stand next to his friend, but he was careful to keep a distance so that Neal would keep talking. "After a while, they would abuse her. I never understood why she was always so attracted to the ones who liked to slap her around."

"Did they ever…"

Neal nodded once, tersely. "Some of them. Nothing more than a couple of smacks or a fist to the ribs usually." He paused and thought about whether or not he wanted to reveal the next piece of the story. "There was one, Richard. I called him Dick. He'd been dating her for a couple of years, had lived with us almost as long. She was sick with the flu or something and couldn't stand long enough to cook his dinner, so he started hitting her. When I stepped in to stop him, he backhanded me so hard that I left a dent in the wall when I slammed into it. I tried to hit him back, but he was bigger and stronger. He hit me again, knocked me to floor. Then, he kicked me a couple of times. I got away and stumbled to the door. I ran, and I never looked back."

"Jesus, Neal." Peter put a hand on the back of his neck and gently squeezed the tense muscles there. Peter had the luxury of growing up in a house full of love. His father had never laid a finger on him except for punishment that Peter deserved, and he'd sure as hell never hit Peter's mother.

"I lived on the streets for a little while before I scraped together enough money to go to New York. I made friends pretty quickly with some forgers who were casing an art class. I couldn't afford the class, but I'd sit in the hall, like I was studying, and draw out the lessons. They saw me and recruited me to help them with some art forgeries. Then I started doing the bonds. Don't tell any of this to Hughes, please."

"He'll want to know."

"I know, but I can't… I don't want him to know yet. I'll tell him when the time's right."

Peter couldn't do anything but nod. This was Neal's story to tell, not his. "Catherine wants to meet you. Do you think you'd be up to that tomorrow?"

Neal bristled at Peter's tone. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to tell this story at all. The concern and pity rolling off Peter was enough to make him sick. He drained his glass of wine and took a few unsteady steps away from his handler. 

Peter reached out to him, but Neal shied away. "Are you okay?"

"No," Neal's honest reply surprised them both. He sank down on a chaise lounge and threw his forearm over his eyes. 

Peter frowned and sat down at the bottom of the chair. He patted Neal's knee. "You should come with me tonight. Elizabeth should be home soon from the Weinstein's gala, and I'm sure she's bringing leftover canapés."

Neal shook his head, only looking up with Peter squeezed his knee. 

"I don't think you should be alone."

"I'll be fine. Mozzie will probably be by in an hour or so, and June's downstairs."

"June's in bed, and I don't trust Mozzie to keep you out of trouble tonight."

"What trouble?"

"You have far too many bottles of wine in there, and I've just dropped a lot of information on you unexpectedly. Come back to Brooklyn with me. Elizabeth will kill me if I leave you here alone."

Neal sat up too fast, and his head swam from drinking more than one wine bottle on an empty stomach. He clutched the edge of the of chair to keep his balance. "Did you tell Elizabeth?"

"No. This isn't my story to tell, Neal. It's up to you who you want to know right now, but I can guarantee you this. It will get around the office somehow. I won't tell anyone, but Kimberly Rice knows too. She's been on the Daniel Hughes case for a few years, and she's ready to take credit for finding you."

"Pfft. She didn't find me. I volunteered to help Hughes' daughter, my…"

"Sister," Peter offered gently. "You can say it."

Neal took a deep breath and repeated softly, "Sister. How, um, how old is she?"

"Twenty-seven. She's your twin."

Neal's breath released in a large exhale. "Oh."

"You have a brother too. Michael. I'm not sure how old he is, but I know that he's older by a few years."

Neal was quiet as he took that in. When he was young, he'd wished for siblings, but he'd made do with all the imaginary friends he could conjure up. Now, he had two siblings that he didn't remember and had no history with. It was all getting to be way too much.

Peter stood up a couple of minutes later and held out a hand to Neal. "Look, Rice is insisting on getting your statement tomorrow morning, and you need to get some sleep before them. Let's pack you an overnight bag, and then let Elizabeth get some food in you. I bet you haven't eaten anything in hours, and you had all that wine." Peter was still talking – not giving Neal a chance to protest – as he led his friend inside and parked him on the bed so that he could tell Peter what to put in the overnight bag that he dug out of the closet. 

An hour later, Neal was sitting at the Burke's dining room table, surreptitiously feeding Satchmo bits of food while Elizabeth talked about the gala and Neal himself leaned his head on one hand and tried to keep his stomach from rebelling at the smell of the food. The wine had hit him harder than he'd thought it would, and he didn't feel well at all. 

Neal jumped when Elizabeth's hand touched his forehead as she stroked his hair away from his face. 

"Are you okay?" she asked, face drawn in concern. 

Neal's eyes darted to Peter, wondering how long he'd been tuned out of the conversation and what he'd told her.

"He had too much wine on an empty stomach, I think," Peter explained. Neal had this panicked look on his face that Peter hated to see.

Elizabeth winced at the thought. "I think we have some crackers and ginger ale. Do you want to try some of that instead of all of this?" She waved her hand over the random hors d'ouvres she's been warming up and sitting out on the table.

Neal shook his head and paled when the room tilted enough to set his stomach roiling again. He barely had time to move Elizabeth out of the way before he was lunging for the kitchen sink, knowing that he would never make it all the way up to the second floor bathroom. He choked and spit a mouthful of sour bile at the drain. 

Peter dropped his fork and moved to Neal's side, gently sliding an arm around him to help him stay upright when his knees threatened to buckle. Neal moaned miserably, so Peter rubbed his back while shooting helpless glances at his wife. 

After a few minutes, there wasn't anything left in Neal's stomach to purge, so he clumsily ran the tap to wash everything down the drain and managed to get a few sips of water to rinse his mouth before his legs gave out on him completely. He gasped as strong arms caught him and lowered him to the floor.

"What's wrong?" Elizabeth asked as she wet a washcloth and rung it out. Then, she kneeled beside Neal and gently washed the sweat from his hairline and face with it.

The cloth felt amazing, cool against his hot skin. He lazily opened his eyes to see Peter struggling with what to tell her. "You can tell her," he murmured. "'S okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Peter squeezed Neal's shoulder and turned his attention to his wife. "Do you remember when I told you about Hughes' missing son, Daniel?" She nodded, still tending to Neal while she listened to her husband. "We were all tested to see if we were a match for Emma, and Neal came back as an usually close match for her."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and she dropped the cloth in shock. "Are you saying…"

"Neal is Daniel Hughes. Rice did a fingerprint match at the office today, and I've already spoken with Reese and Cathy."

It took Elizabeth a minute to get over her initial shock, but then she turned her attention on Neal. "Are you okay, sweetie? Well, that's a silly question if you had this much wine tonight. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not tonight," Neal replied, sitting up a little straighter and summoning all his energy to try and get to his feet. "Just wanna go to bed."

"Of course." Elizabeth stilled him with a hand on his shoulder, and she impulsively leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. "Feel better, okay? Shout if you need anything."

Neal froze for a moment, not used to having Elizabeth so close inside his personal space. He looked over at Peter, who just looked worried. After a moment, Neal tried to push himself up, and Peter rose with him, helping him with a hand at his elbow. 

"Come on." Peter slipped Neal's arm over his shoulder and pointed toward the second floor. "Let's get you settled in. We have a spare toothbrush somewhere. I think I forgot to pack yours."

"Second drawer on the left," Elizabeth called after them. She waited until they were out of sight before pressing her hand to her mouth and letting out a shaky sob. She couldn't imagine what Cathy Hughes was feeling right now, or Reese for that matter. Their son had been found after twenty-some years. It had to be surreal. 

Upstairs, Peter had left Neal to his own devices in the bathroom while he checked the spare bed to make sure that it had sheets on it. He moved the trashcan from beside the corner desk to beside the bed, in case Neal needed it in the night. Then, he rummaged in the hall closet medical kit for Tylenol and Pepto Bismal.

Neal left the bathroom and stumbled across the hall to the bedroom, where Peter was waiting with two bottles. He made a face at the bright pink one but took the other and fumbled the cap off while Peter got a Dixie cup of water from the bathroom. 

"I'm sorry about all of this, Peter," he said as soon as he'd downed the pills and laid down on the bed.

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

Neal snorted. "I got drunk off wine, threw up in your sink, and now you're practically tucking me in. All of this shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry for being such a wreck tonight."

Peter sat down on the edge of the mattress and placed a hand over Neal's forearm to get his attention. "You've had a helluva shock today, Neal. And these last couple of weeks too… It's okay to not be okay about it. I would have preferred that you talked to me instead of downing a bottle of wine, but the important thing is that I'm here, and you're here. If you want to talk, even if it's two in the morning, all you have to do is come ask me."

Neal opened his mouth to protest, but he knew Peter would be stubborn about it and insist that Neal wake him. He didn't feel up to fighting about it, so he just nodded and tried to relax back against his pillow.

"Get some rest," Peter said and then left Neal alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Neal went through the motions of getting ready, but his heart wasn't in it. He hadn't slept well, and he wished he could postpone the interview with Rice. On the other hand, he wanted it to be over and done with. 

Peter gave him a bagel already smeared with cream cheese when he got downstairs, and Elizabeth handed him a cup of coffee. Neal's stomach didn't feel up to the food, but Peter stared him down until he took a few bites. 

The drive to the office was quick, and Peter led him to the interrogation rooms in the back without going through the bullpen. Rice was standing in the doorway of one of them. She greeted him with a gruff, "Caffrey."

"Always a pleasure, Agent Rice."

"Have a seat." She pointed to the chair on the opposite side of the interrogation table while she sat across from him and turned on the recording equipment. "Please state your name, for the record."

"Neal George Caffrey," he said, without hesitation, but his eyebrows immediately drew together in confusion. Was he supposed to say Daniel Hughes? He didn't even know that middle name.

"What do you remember about June 30, 1989?"

"Nothing about that day." He hesitated before adding, "I have some memories about that age: playing in the park, eating macaroni and cheese, glow-in-the-dark stars on the bedroom ceiling."

"Do you remember living with the Hughes family?"

Neal considered the question for a moment and thought about the dreams he'd been having. "Yes. Again, it's just glimpses. Nothing concrete."

"Can you tell me the name of the woman who kidnapped you?"

"Virginia Brooks."

"How did Ms. Brooks treat you?"

"She was good to me. She treated me like a son."

"When did you last speak with Ms. Brooks?"

"I was sixteen." He refused to fidget in the chair and give away how uncomfortable he was with this turn in conversation so he bit the inside of his cheek while he waited for the next question. Virginia was a topic he'd rather avoid, but he understood that Rice was investigating the kidnapping, that Hughes and his wife would want her to do that.

Rice's eyebrows shot up. "Sixteen?"

"Yes. Look, I don't remember the day that she took me, and I don't remember being aware that she wasn't my mother. The reasons that I left home at sixteen have nothing to do with that. We're finished here." He stood and started for the door.

"Caffrey. Neal!" Rice reached out to stop him, but Neal sidestepped her and walked through the door. He didn't stop moving until he made it into a stall in the Men's Room and sat down to try and get himself together. He hadn't thought about his mother for a long time, and now that she was dragged back up, all he wanted to do was push it all back down into the Pandora's box that never should have been opened. 

He didn't know how long he'd been in there, but he didn't realize someone else had come into the room until he heard Peter's voice asking, "Neal? You okay?"

"Yes," he replied, rubbing his hands over his face and then down his suit jacket to smooth it out. He got up and stepped out of the stall. 

Peter frowned and clasped a hand around Neal's neck. "Do you feel up to going over to the hospital and seeing Reese and Cathy? After that, you can have the rest of the day off."

Neal felt exhausted already. He couldn't believe his watch said it was only ten in the morning. "I don't-"

"They really want to see you," Peter interrupted. "I can talk to them, but I think you'll all feel better if you get over this hurdle."

He sighed but nodded. "All right."

~~!!~~

Reese and his wife stood up when Neal entered the conference room they'd commandeered for this meeting. Their hands were clasped together so tightly that their knuckles were white and both looked to be on the verge of tears. Neal wanted to turn tail and run, but Peter was in the doorway, blocking his exit, and this room had no windows. 

“Caf-” Reese hesitated over his name for a second before recovering. “Neal, this is my wife, Catherine.”

“Hello,” Neal replied politely, but shyly. Shy was not a word often associated with conman extraordinaire Neal Caffrey, but he currently felt like a seven-year-old kid who was just starting at a new school in the middle of the year. 

Catherine cleared her throat and took a deep breath, trying to stop tears from falling. She stepped forward and reached for him, but stopped before she actually touched him. “You can call me Cathy. It's... I don't know what to... Hello.”

He smiled, trying to put her at ease. From behind, Peter nudged him forward until he bumped into Cathy's still out-stretched hand. 

“Hug her,” Peter whispered.

Neal hesitantly put his arms around Cathy, and she made such a joyful noise that he couldn't imagine letting her go for a moment. When they finally pulled apart, she put a hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb across his cheekbone. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. 

He wasn't sure if she meant the hug, the meeting, or the fact that he had agreed to give her daughter, _his sister_ , a desperately needed bone marrow transplant. Neal was at a loss for words.

Reese saved him by stepping forward and pulling Cathy out of his personal space. They were both staring at him openly, clearly trying to reconcile the adult man in front of them with the picture they had in their heads of a three-year-old little boy who couldn't even tie his shoelaces. 

“Would you like to meet Emma?” Cathy asked when he started to fidget and glanced over his shoulder at Peter and the door.

“Is that okay?” Neal asked. “Does she know about me?” 

“We told her this morning,” Reese said. “She's looking forward to meeting you, but she's a bit nervous too.”

Neal nodded. “That makes two of us.”

Hughes gave him a rare smile and moved toward the door. “Would you like to go now?”

Neal looked to Peter, needing his partner's support in this. So far, Peter had been with him every step of the way, and he needed that to continue for the time being. He wasn't quite ready to face all of this by himself, and while he knew Hughes, the man had never been all that warm and fuzzy toward him. It was weird now, to see Hughes being nice to him. Neal didn't quite know how to process it all. 

~~!!~~

A few minutes later, they were all standing outside a room in the Oncology wing while Neal hesitated in the doorway. His life had already irrevocably changed, but actually meeting his sister, his _twin_ sister, would be a serious point of no return. There was no doubt that he would go through with the transplant, but he was still feeling overwhelmed with all that had changed in his life lately: Kate's death, nearly shooting Fowler and now this long-lost family stuff. Sometimes, it felt like a dream he would wake up from at any moment, and sometimes it felt like a freight train barreling down on him.

He started when someone squeezed his bicep and slipped their arm through his. Looking to his right, he saw that it was Cathy, and she looked a little afraid that he would pull away. Instead, he raised his left hand to pat hers and let her tug him inside the room.

"Emma, this is Neal. Neal, meet Emma." Cathy did the introductions in a light tone, hoping to keep Neal from bolting. He was pale and shaky, though she could tell that he was trying to pull himself together. 

Emma's face lit up with a smile as she watched her mother escort him closer to the bed. She'd asked the nurse to hold off on all her meds except the anti-nausea stuff for now, so that she wouldn't be dopey when she finally got her chance to meet her brother. She had very little memory of him from when they were children, but she felt like she'd been searching for him her whole life. "Hello," she said, when he stayed silent.

Neal's breath caught when he saw her. She was sitting up in bed, a celebrity gossip magazine in her lap. There was a gray scarf wrapped around her head, and she was wearing long-sleeved pajamas instead of a hospital gown. What struck him the most though was her bright blue eyes, just like his own. It wasn't quite like looking in a mirror, but they had similar face shapes, angled noses, and full lips. When he realized she'd said something, he replied with a "Hi."

"Are you okay?" Emma asked, unsure of what else to say. "Do you want to sit?" 

There was a chair beside her bed and he let go of Cathy to sink into it. For a conman with a famed silver-tongue, his words were certainly failing him now. "This is all such a shock."

"For me too. We," her eyes flicked to the side to include her parents, "didn't think we'd ever find you."

Cathy had retreated to the doorway to stand with Reese where they could watch the reunion without interfering. He put his arm around and held her close.

Peter was standing near them, also watching quietly. If Neal needed him, he was there, but otherwise, this was a Hughes family matter.

"I didn't know." Neal finally looked away from her as his eyes dropped to study his hands that he was wringing in his lap. "Did they tell you that? I don't remember it."

"That's good, I think." Emma hadn't really had a chance to think about the implications of his kidnapping, but now she gasped with abrupt concern and worry. "Did they… They didn't hurt you, did they? That was insensitive. I'm sorry. I don't know how else to ask it."

Neal bit his lip and kept his eyes down while he shook his head. This wasn't a topic that he wanted to discuss today. He had no interest in lying to the Hughes family, but he needed more time to consider what had really happened during his childhood before he could answer any questions like this.

"It must be hard for you to talk about. I’m sorry for being so rude." Emma reached out for him but pulled her hand back before she actually touched him. "Neal, would you look at me?"

He raised his head and gave her a weak version of the Caffrey smile. 

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you, and I'm very grateful that you're willing to help me. I want you to know that."

"I'm just glad I was a match. Despite all of this," he waved a hand in an effort to encompass her, the hospital, Reese and Cathy, and everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, "I want you to get better."

She was touched, and her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you."

"No thanks necessary." He held his hand out then, letting her make the decision about whether she wanted to hold it. Her response was immediate, and her grip was stronger than he anticipated when she squeezed his fingers. "How are you doing?"

"I won't lie; it's been rough, but things are looking up now. I have maybe a week of treatment left. Then, they'll want to do the transplant. Have you talked to the doctor about it?"

Neal nodded.

"And you're okay with it? Honestly?" It would be the worst joke that fate could play on her. Give her brother back just to snatch her life away when he was too uncomfortable to go through with everything.

"Yes. From what I understand, it's going to be harder on you than it is on me." Neal had done some reading on the internet when he'd gotten a few spare minutes. His side effects would be minimal and pretty short-term whereas the whole process would be much harder on Emma's body. 

"It'll be worth it." She squeezed his hand again. "Now, tell me. Are you a Yankees or a Mets fan? Because there's a game on, and I think we need something a little less dramatic to talk about."

Neal made a face. "I'm not much of a sports person."

She gasped. "Not much of a sports- Dad, did you hear that? How could that be?"

Reese chuckled and walked around her bed so that he could sit on the edge on the side opposite Neal. "It's the damnedst thing. I think that you should turn on the game and explain it to him. Maybe he just doesn't understand it."

"That's an excellent idea." Cathy pulled a chair up on the other side of the bed and smiled over at Neal. "Maybe when Emma's feeling better, we can play a little ball in the park."

Neal's eyes widened at that but he didn't comment. He glanced over at Peter and saw that his friend was grinning at him, clearly loving that the Hugheses were into baseball.

Emma had leaned back against her pillows as she flipped on the TV and turned it to the right channel, but she abruptly lifted her head and muted the sound. "Mom, did you call Michael?"

Neal had actually forgotten, in the midst of meeting the rest of the Hughes family, that he also had an older brother now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping no one was going to call him to come over right away or anything. He didn't think he could handle the stress of another sibling meeting tonight.

"I did," Cathy replied. She hadn't missed Neal's reaction to the name, so he obviously knew who Michael was. "He said that he'll be here Friday night. He couldn't get away from work before then."

Neal exhaled shakily and rubbed the back of his neck to try to ease some of tension there. He opened his eyes when the sound came back up on the TV. 

Emma leaned toward him and stage-whispered. "Don't worry. Mike's okay, for an older brother."

Neal laughed lightly and pointed to the game. "Who's playing the Yankees?"

"Red Sox." Reese was the one to answer him. "Yankees'll cream them."

Neal's eyebrows shot up. He'd never heard Hughes talk like that before, but he'd only spent time around him in the office. Now, he guessed he should try to get used to it.

It was about an hour later when the tension headache that had been building between Neal's eyes finally became too much, and he had to bid good bye to the others. He kissed Emma on the cheek, promised to be back to visit as often as he could, and then followed Peter out to the car.

~~!!~~

The next few days went by quickly. Peter had tried to give Neal time off, but Neal wanted to keep working until he needed to take the medical leave for the bone marrow donation. It gave him something to do during the day, and it was a great distraction from the chaos of his life. 

Finally, Emma was declared ready for the transplant, and Neal was given instructions to be at the hospital the next morning, a Tuesday, with an overnight bag, just in case. He couldn't eat or drink anything after midnight, and he should wear something loose-fitting and comfortable. He hated being out of his suits, but he had to admit that the track pants, t-shirt and sneakers were comfortable.

Peter had already agreed to be there with him through the whole procedure, so he was prepared with a book of crossword puzzles and some cold case files. He figured that if Neal started to get antsy, he'd share the files with him.

It took a while after Neal was checked in before the doctor came in to do a final round of vitals checks. Neal had requested a regional anesthetic – a spinal – so that he could be awake for the procedure, and the anesthetist greeted him in his pre-op cubicle with a smile and a really big needle. 

Peter could see that Neal was getting anxious around all of the medical equipment and personnel that were around every corner. Once Neal was on his side with his knees pulled up toward his chest, Peter moved his rolling stool in front of him and took hold of his hands.

"Squeeze if you're hurting," he instructed. "Neal?"

"Okay." Neal's eyes were flitting around like he wanted to see what the doctor was doing but couldn't figure out how that would work.

"Hey, did you see Diana's necklace yesterday? Do you think that was a gift from Christie?"

"I tried to ask her about it, but she cut me off and waved that Richardson Financial folder in my face until I had to explain why I hadn't given her all the numbers on it yet."

"You didn't give her the numbers?" Peter wasn't surprised, but he pretended he was to keep Neal talking. Over the young man's shoulder, her could see the doctor preparing the needle to give Neal the spinal.

"There was another potential shell company that I wanted to-" Neal jumped when the doctor pressed a hand against his back. 

"Try to relax, Mr. Caffrey." The doctor's voice was nasally and unpleasant to hear for too long at a time. "This will be less painful if you can relax."

Neal bit his lip and tried to will his muscles to unclench, but they didn't want to obey. He reminded himself that as much as he hated this, he would hate being completely unconscious more. He couldn't help the whimper and moan as the needle penetrated his skin. There was a burning sensation that was gone almost as quickly as it started.

"It's okay," Peter whispered, gripping Neal's hands more firmly to remind him that he could squeeze back. "You're okay. It'll all be over in a minute."

An strange warmth spread down his legs, followed pretty immediately by a numbness that caused his heart rate to speed up in a panic that he tried to tamp down. Neal took deep breaths to remind himself that he was saving his sister's life, that a little discomfort for him now meant that she could live a happy, full life.

The nurse moved in to check Neal's vitals against the monitors that he was hooked up to. Then, she helped him roll onto his back and placed a pillow under his left hip to elevate it slightly. As she pulled a sheet over him, she reminded him that he needed to remain in that position and that he should let her know immediately if he felt sick or uncomfortable in any way. 

Peter rubbed a hand up and down Neal's bicep, hoping it was a soothing gesture. His friend's face relaxed as the drugs did their job, but he also knew how sensitive Neal could be to medication. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah. Feels weird."

"I'll bet. Do you need anything?"

"No. I'm okay."

"Elizabeth wants to make your favorite food for dinner tonight. What would that be?"

"My m- uh, Virginia used to make tomato soup when I was sick." Neal frowned at the thought of the woman who had kidnapped him.

"So, you want tomato soup?"

"No." Neal didn't want to explain how he didn't want anything to do with her or any memory he had of her. "What did your mom make for you?"

Peter smiled. "Wedding soup and grilled cheese. She made the best soups, but that one was her cure-all."

"That sounds good." Neal swallowed hard and clutched the sheet. "Can we maybe talk about something else?"

"Do you want me to get the nurse?"

Neal aborted the attempt to shake his head with his face tilted toward Peter. "No. Let's just talk about Satchmo. He's a great dog."

"We always had dogs when I was growing up, so when Elizabeth and I bought the townhouse, I talked her into getting him. She fell in love immediately with this floppy-eared puppy that wanted to play and lick her face. I wanted a German Shepherd, but El wouldn't look at any other dogs after she saw Satch."

While Peter was talking, the nurse returned and checked the wires and IV that were attached to Neal. "How are you doing, Mr. Caffrey?"

"Told you to call me Neal," he replied, giving her a wink instead of his normal grin. 

Peter gave him another beat to speak up before he said, "He's feeling some nausea."

The nurse nodded at Peter, and then looked down at Neal. "Is that right?"

"A little." Neal hated admitting to the weakness, but he was afraid of what would happen when they started moving his gurney around.

"I can give you something to help with that. We're about to move you to the operating room, and we want you to be comfortable."

She rummaged in a nearby cabinet before returning with a syringe filled with a clear liquid. She injected it into Neal's IV port and then patted his hand. "We'll give that a minute to take effect. Do you feel okay otherwise?"

"Yeah."

"Tell her the truth."

"I'm okay now." 

The nurse waved an orderly into the room. "All right. We're going to move you now, Mr. Caff- Neal.

He smiled weakly at the use of his name. The movement of the gurney caused his nausea to flare back up, but it receded quickly with the drugs cursing through his system. When he realized that Peter wasn’t following, he tried to twist around to see him and gasped when the movement made his head hurt.

"Stay still," the nurse said as she placed a hand on his chest.

"Peter!" 

He stepped over to Neal's side and patted his shoulder. "I'll be there in a minute, Neal. I have to get suited up." When Neal gave him a perplexed look, Peter smiled reassuringly. "I have to put on a sterile gown over my clothes and a face mask. I'll see you in a couple of minutes. Just lie still."

Neal forced himself to relax back on the gurney. He closed his eyes and thought about Emma and her smile and the master's degree that she wanted to finish as he was wheeled through the hallways. They were gentle with him in the OR as they eased him onto his stomach and made sure that he was as comfortable as he could be. 

When Peter entered the OR, Neal was as tense as he'd been all day. Clearly having strangers around him wasn't helping, so Peter asked the nurse, a different one than before, where he should stand. She gave him another rolling stool and positioned him by Neal's head where the younger man could see him.

Peter rested his hand over Neal's again, curling it around so that Neal could squeeze his fingers, if he needed to do so. He alternated his attention from Neal's face to the doctor's sure hands throughout the procedure while keeping up a steady stream of stories about Satchmo's mishaps as a puppy. 

Neal focused on the sound of Peter's voice more so than his words. He knew that he was talking about Satch, and he asked a question here and there so that Peter would know he was half-listening, at least. The doctor would interject every so often too, but the spinal was doing its job and Neal couldn't feel anything below his waist. There was some pressure at the back of his hip, but it didn't hurt. 

Within ten minutes, the bone marrow aspiration was finished, and Neal was moved once more; this time to post-op. Peter disappeared long enough to get rid of the gown/face mask combo and to grab his book of crossword puzzles. He asked Neal about random clues while they waited for the anesthesia to wear off. 

Neal dozed on and off, often pulled awake by a nurse taking a blood sample or asking him if he was okay. A hospital was no place to sleep, as he was quickly discovering.

Once Neal had proved that he could get up from the bed and take a few shaky steps around the room, he was moved back to his private room to be observed for a few more hours. Dr. Cartwright had told him that he would most likely be discharged that evening, but they wanted to make sure he didn't experience side effects from the anesthesia or the procedure.

He hadn't been back in the room long before there was a knock at the door. Both he and Peter looked up from their case files at the sound. "Come in," Neal called out.

Reese stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. "Hi Peter, Neal. How are you feeling?"

Neal looked down at his legs and stretched his feet, still relieved that he could both feel and see them move. "I'm a little sore and stiff but not too bad. How's Emma doing?"

"They're infusing her now. She was awake for a while, watching some reality show or something, but she's sleeping now. She's doing well."

Neal smiled at the news. "Good. That's good."

"Are you hungry? Cathy's making a food run, and she wanted to get you something." 

Neal's eyes darted to Peter before moving back to Reese. He didn't want to upset them, but his stomach still felt touchy. "No, thanks."

Reese frowned. "Are you sure? She's placing an order at Gramercy Tavern, but I'm sure she'll pick you up anything you want."

As tempting as it was, Neal wasn't brave enough to risk it. "The anesthesia and I didn't mix well. I'm okay, just not hungry."

"Ah," Reese understood and nodded. "Well, if you need anything, you have my cell phone number."

Peter had gone back to reading his file so that he wouldn't be tempted to jump in and answer things for Neal, who was still hesitant about what to say to Reese in casual conversation. He listened but focused on the file too.

"Thanks, Hugh- Reese." They'd had this conversation a few days ago. Reese was completely honest and told Neal that he hoped he'd one day be comfortable calling him Dad, like Emma and Michael did, but for now, he'd like to be called Reese instead of Hughes. Neal was having a hard time abiding by his wishes on it, but he was trying. 

"Get some rest, Neal." Reese smiled at Neal, and then slipped back out the door. 

Neal exhaled a rush of air that he'd been holding while talking with his father. It was difficult to figure out how to respond to Reese's concern. He wasn't used to it from anyone but Peter, who was more like an annoying older brother than a father figure most of the time. Though he did have his moments. 

Peter closed his file and stood up, stretching out his back and arms. "I'm going to grab some more coffee."

Neal's eyes narrowed. "Did you and Hughes pass some sort of 'meet me in the hall in five minutes' code while I wasn't looking?"

"What? No, not at all." Peter tilted his nearly empty cup toward Neal. "This is cold, and I need more."

Neal quirked an eyebrow like he didn't believe Peter but waved him away. "Go. Make sure you tell him that I'm fine."

Peter laughed and called Neal a closet conspiracy theorist on his way out the door. Unsurprisingly, Hughes was leaning against the wall two doors down. He hadn't lied to Neal; they hadn't made any sort of plan to do this, but Peter knew that if it were his son and daughter in this predicament, he'd want more information than what Neal was willing to give him.

"He knows you're out here," Peter said, by way of greeting.

"He's smart, like his mother," was Reese's response. "How is he? Really?"

"He's pretty sore. You can tell when the nurses get him up and make him walk around. He shuffles around like a seventy-year-old, but he's also still a little unsteady. Did they tell you about the spinal?"

Reese nodded. "I can't say that I'm surprised, but it worried me."

"Worried him too. I think the whole thing freaked him more than he's willing to admit right now. But he's not talking about it." Peter shrugged. "He's not really sleeping, but the nurses wake him up every time he manages to doze off, so that's understandable, I guess."

"He looks exhausted."

"It's been a long day, and I doubt he got much sleep last night."

"Would you do me a favor? Keep Cathy and I updated on his condition? We wanted to be with him today, but the doctor said that he requested you." 

Reese didn't say it with any sort of malice, but Peter heard the underlying jealousy and pain. Neal was pushing Reese and Cathy away, using any opportunity to request Peter's presence instead of theirs. He'd even asked the Burkes if he could recuperate at their house where there were fewer stairs than at June's. A day later, Cathy tried to invite him to the Hughes' home, but Neal hadn't actually been yet and wasn't ready to go.

"Of course I'll let you know how he's doing. As much as he tells me." 

"Thank you, Peter. For being there for him, with him. We're grateful."

"When this is all over, and Emma's on the mend, and Neal's doing better, we'll have dinner together and call it even."

Reese smiled and held his hand out to Peter. "Deal."

Peter returned the smile and shook his boss' hand. "I'd better get back before he tries to make an escape with the walker the nurse left by his bed."

Reese chuckled and nodded, letting Peter head down the hall toward the coffee vending machine. He kept his eyes on Neal's closed door for a moment before heading for the elevators. 

Though Neal developed a slight headache, he was discharged that evening. He wanted to stop in and see Emma before he left, but Peter had talked to Reese and Cathy and found out that she was sleeping a lot. Neal left a note for her promising to visit in the next couple of days.

A nurse and Peter got Neal in the passenger seat of the car with little fanfare, and Peter wasn't surprised when he dozed off on the way home, after insisting that he, as the invalid, should get to choose the radio station. Peter had let him because he knew he could change it back to the sports highlights after Neal fell asleep.

Elizabeth was at home to meet them when Peter pulled up and double-parked right in front of the townhouse. There wasn't a spot close by, and he wasn't making Neal walk that far. 

"Hey, hon!" Elizabeth gave him a kiss and then leaned down to say hi to Neal. She demonstrated the odd angle of the young man's neck while making a face and saying, "That looks uncomfortable."

"I forgot to take a pillow." Peter frowned at himself as he walked around the front of the car and gently eased the passenger door open. He reached in to keep Neal's head from dropping too quickly as he did it, and the jostling was enough to wake him.

Neal blinked his bleary eyes until the familiar Brooklyn street came into view. He fumbled with his seat belt for a moment before it finally unclicked and retracted.

"C'mon. Let's get you inside where you'll be more comfortable." Peter reached in to help him, but Neal batted him away and pulled himself to his feet with a hiss of pain. 

"Hey, Elizabeth," Neal greeted, slowly straightening. He winced and reached back to rub his hip, but Peter smacked his hand away. 

"Don't do that. Your bandage is there."

"Hurts," Neal replied, surprising them and himself with the honesty.

"Let's go inside." Elizabeth took Neal's elbow without giving him a choice and started gently moving him toward the steps.

Neal felt Peter hovering as he slowly ascended the stairs. His back ached as he concentrated on moving one foot up at a time, but he thought he'd be okay to make it to the top. About half way up, the ache turned into a full-on pain, and he gasped and stilled. He was stuck with one foot half raised to place on the next step.

"Neal?" Peter and Elizabeth said his name at the same time, with the same level of concern, and he almost laughed at the improbability of that. 

"Need a second," he gritted out through clenched teeth.

"I'm going to call the doctor," Peter said, patting his pockets down for his phone. He cursed under his breath when he remembered that he'd dropped it into the side pocket in the car when he'd been arguing with Neal about the radio.

"Calm down, Peter. The stairs are steep, and Neal's body has been through a lot today." Elizabeth kept a firm hold on Neal's arm, but reached down to put her other hand on Peter's shoulder too. "I did some reading and it's normal for there to be some pain with stairs."

Neal tuned them out as he put his full concentration into resuming the climb upwards. He found that he was able to put one foot in front of the other as long as he didn't waste energy on responding to anyone or thinking about anything else. 

Soon, Neal was inside the house and easing himself down on the couch. He'd expected Satchmo to greet him at the door, but the golden retriever was nowhere in sight. 

"Where's Satch?" he asked when Elizabeth walked in from the kitchen, carrying a full glass of water and a non-prescription pill bottle.

"He's in the back yard, gnawing on a new rawhide. I didn't know how steady you'd be on your feet, and I didn't want him tripping any of us up when you got home."

Neal nodded and leaned his head back against the back of the couch. His headache was a steady throb in the back of his head, and he squirmed to find a position that didn't aggravate his hip. He felt more miserable than he expected to, and he was still exhausted on top of that.

"Here." Elizabeth bumped the cool glass against his fingers. "Doctor's orders are to drink a lot of fluids and rest with your legs up. Drink this and then we'll see about getting you more comfortable."

He drank until the glass was almost empty. When Elizabeth held a pill out to him, he pushed it back toward her. "I'm okay."

"It's just a Tylenol, Neal. I promise." 

He accepted the pill, hoping it would help with his head if nothing else. Then, he gingerly turned so that he could lift his legs up onto the couch and was surprised to find that he wasn't sitting on the formal, green sofa that he was used to seeing in their home. In its place was a soft, chocolate brown leather couch that he could actually stretch his legs out on.

"What's this?"

"I decided to do some redecorating last week," Elizabeth replied with a smile. She swept her hand around the room and he noticed that the coffee table, TV stand, and accents had all changed as well. "Do you like it?"

"It looks really good." She had a great eye for detail and design that Neal appreciated. She'd be a hell of an artist, if she had any drawing ability. He'd offered to teach her one time, and it had been a disaster. 

Elizabeth sent Peter upstairs for more pillows and then covered Neal with a soft throw blanket. As she handed over the TV remote, she asked, "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm okay, thanks." Neal took the remote but found that he couldn't concentrate on the program guide. He wound up flipping through channels until he found the network that showed old cartoons. It was the soundtrack of his childhood, and it put him right to sleep.

Peter eased a couple of spare pillows under Neal's calves before walking into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He kissed Elizabeth when she handed him a mug that was already filled for him. "How was your day?"

"It was all right." She shrugged and sat down at the bar so that she could go back to her meal planning of the next week. "I had those two meetings with new vendors, and I think they're going to work with me on pricing. And the Singh wedding is moving ahead a breakneck speed. They want to finalize the plans next week!"

He nodded along but when she paused and seemed to expect a response, he couldn't remember what she'd said. It had been a long day at Neal's bedside, and he'd had that awkward conversation with Reese about Neal. He wished his friend felt comfortable with Hughes, but that was going to take time. 

Elizabeth frowned and took Peter's hand to draw him closer to her. When he was standing between her knees, she guided his head down so that she could give him a long, deep kiss. "You're an incredible man, Peter Burke, but you were not listening to a word I was saying."

"Sorry," he replied after they parted and he wrapped his arms around her with his face pressed against her hair. She smelled of lavender and roses, and he loved that about her. "I'm worried about Neal and Reese and the rest of the Hughes family."

"What do you mean?" She rubbed her hands up and down his back to try and soothe some of his tension away.

"Reese stopped in Neal's room today, and it was awkward. Reese wanted to bring Neal lunch, but he'd had a reaction to the anesthetic, so he wasn't feeling up to it. And then Neal stumbled on Reese's name. It was just…" he flailed his hands against her back.

"It's only been a few days, hon. This is a shock for anyone, much less for the Hughes family, who found their son alive after twenty-five years. And Neal, who had no idea he'd been kidnapped and missing for that long."

Suddenly, there was a pawing and whine at the door, which mean Satchmo knew his people were home and he was tired of being relegated to the tiny backyard. 

"I should walk him," Elizabeth said, kissing Peter's shoulder and gently moving him backwards with her hands on his hips. "You need a nap, I think."

Peter shook his head and put his arms out to trap her in the chair. "I'll take him. If I go to sleep now, my whole sleep cycle will be off. I'll just turn in early tonight after we get Neal squared away upstairs."

"If you think that's best." Her tone implied that she didn't think it was best, but Peter slipped away and got one of Satchmo's leashes. He let the dog in but hooked him to the leash immediately so that he wouldn't get loose and wake Neal. Peter led the dog through the living room, smirking at the cartoon antics playing out on the screen, and out the door.

Neal slept fitfully, the ache in his lower back made him want to turn over and curl up on his side, but the pillows under his feet made that too difficult for his sleeping mind to figure out. He dreamed of Virginia, of the run-down apartment in St. Louis where he'd last seen her, of the night that he'd run away and never looked back. 

He gasped himself awake less than an hour after he'd fallen asleep. His body still hurt, but his bladder was calling for more attention. The one thing that he hated most about the Burke house was that the bathroom was on the second floor. He carefully untangled himself from the throw and got to his feet.

Elizabeth heard a noise from the living room and went to investigate. She'd finished her menus for the next week and made her grocery list. Then, she'd started on tonight's dinner of Italian Wedding soup, which Peter had not to subtly suggested, and grilled cheeses. 

In the living room, she found Neal two steps up the stairs, grimacing as he gripped the rail with all his might. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Bathroom," he murmured, clearly concentrating too hard to hear her joking tone. 

"Oh, sweetie. How can I help?"

"Can you build a bathroom on the first floor? In the next two minutes?"

"I wish I could," she replied, suddenly wondering if they shouldn't have taken him back to June's. She had no idea how they would have gotten him up all those flights of stairs, but at least the bathroom would be on the right level. 

"Just… I don't know." He pressed his free hand against his forehead and then rubbed at his eye with it. 

He was so out of sorts that her heart ached for him. "Here." She pulled his arm up and over her shoulder and then put her free arm around his back, careful to keep it above his hip, where she assumed his bandage was. "Lean on me, and we'll take it one step at a time. Do you want me to count off?"

He shrugged and groaned at the pain.

"All right. On three. One, two, three." She pulled, he pushed and then they were on the next step. 

They continued up the stairs at a steady, but slow pace. Neal barely managed to prop himself up with one hand on the wall and the other tugging his pants down before his bladder got the best of him. He didn't even care that Elizabeth hadn't managed to fully shut the door yet.

After that, he opted to stay on the second floor for a while. She retrieved his pillows from the couch and made sure that he was comfortable before leaving him alone. She also made sure that his cell was in reach in case he needed them and couldn't get up.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Thursday morning when Reese called the Burke house and asked that they bring Neal to his house to meet Michael, his oldest son, that afternoon. 

Peter was surprised that the meeting was to be at Reese's house – even he'd never been invited there. However, Reese gave him an address on the Upper East Side that caused Peter's eyes to widen in even more surprise. This day was certainly going to be interesting.

Neal had been napping after a walk to the park and playing with Satchmo, which he'd insisted on even after Elizabeth tried to get him to take it easy. He was feeling better, less achy and stiff, but he stilled tired easily. When Peter woke him, he'd apologized and filled Neal on the details, and Neal insisted on getting cleaned up and dressing appropriately.

Neal showered and put on one of his favorite suits. Then they all got in the car and Peter drove them over the bridge and through Manhattan. Neal didn't know where the Hughes family lived exactly, but Peter was driving by the park and into one of the more affluent neighborhoods in the city.

It was even more shocking when Peter parked in front of a very nice home on West 84th. 

"Are you sure this is the right address, hon?" Even Elizabeth was confused.

"I double-checked it." Peter got out of the car and opened the back door for Neal, who was still sitting inside staring at the brownstone. 

It wasn't ornate, but it was obviously well-maintained. It looked like a house that Neal would have cased several years back because it was nice, but not so nice that he would have thought the security system would be difficult to tackle. 

"Neal?" Peter jerked him out of his thoughts and Neal got out, straightening his suit before he stepped onto the sidewalk.

Peter and Elizabeth followed behind, holding hands to support each other so that they could get Neal through this. He had been unusually quiet in the car, even when Peter had tried to give him openings to be the smartass that he usually was.

As Neal neared the stairs that led up to the front door, something tickled the back of his brain. He looked up and down the sidewalk for a moment before crouching down. Instantly, he flashed back to a different time, but the same place. The trees along the block were in exactly the same places, and his mind flashed back to a small hand, _his own hand_ , petting the neighbor's yapping poodle on the steps next door.

The memory was so vivid that he almost fell backwards on his butt when Peter squeezed his shoulder.

"You okay?"

Neal nodded and let Peter pull him back to his feet. "It's a beautiful neighborhood," he murmured, forcing himself to move forward. He had to get this over with before the urge to turn tail and run became too great.

Reese had the decency to wait for Neal to ring the doorbell before opening the door, though the speed at which he did it suggested that he'd been watching for them from one of the front windows. "Please come in."

Neal, Peter, and Elizabeth all stepped inside and tried to keep their eyes from wandering impolitely.

"How are you feeling, Neal?" Reese noticed that Neal's color was back to normal and that he was moving with ease. He'd read up on the side effects from Neal's half of the procedure, so he'd known what to look for, but Peter had also been surreptitiously keeping him updated as well. He knew the last few days had been uncomfortable for his son.

"I'm okay," Neal replied. "How's Emma?"

"She's doing as well as can be expected, but her vitals are all within normal levels, and she's sleeping a little less now."

"That's good." It sounded good. Neal made a mental note to speak with Emma's doctor the next time he was at the hospital so that he would better understand her condition.

"It's very good. Why don't we all have a seat? Michael will be down in a minute." Reese led them to a sitting room that reminded Neal of June's house. 

The silence was uncomfortable, and they each fidgeted in their seats until Elizabeth commented, "Reese, you have a gorgeous home."

He smiled and waved a hand at the furnishings. "It's all Cathy's doing. She's been decorating this place for as long as I can remember, but she refuses to remodel. The only thing that's changed in forty years is the kitchen."

In the back of the sitting room, there was a sideboard table. Neal couldn't take his eyes off of it, and while Elizabeth and Reese were discussing how to talk Cathy into remodeling the house, he slipped out of his chair and approached the table. 

He could feel their eyes on him as he kneeled in front of it and pulled the middle drawer out all the way. There was a space inside where items had been pushed up and over the sides of the drawer over the years. Underneath the drawers was a solid wood piece that kept the items from falling to the floor. Neal reached in and pulled out a vintage Hot Wheels red Mustang from among the other debris. 

Reese's breath caught when he saw what Neal was holding. It had been Daniel's favorite toy, and they hadn't been able to find it after his abduction. They had always assumed that he'd had it with him.

"One of your more inspired hiding spots." An unfamiliar voice caused everyone's head to turn. A young man stood by the entry, wearing dark-wash jeans with a worn Henley t-shirt. And he had tears in his eyes.

Neal used the sideboard table to help himself stand, and then he turned to face the newcomer. "You must be Michael."

The man nodded and walked toward Neal. "You don't remember me."

Neal shook his head but wasn't sure what he could say to that. It hadn't really been a question after all.

"You used to hide your toys all over the house. I'm not really sure why because I didn't want to play with them and Emma wasn't that interested in anything that you couldn't put a dress on, but you would take your cars or your army men and find these little nooks and crannies to stick them in." Michael bent down and replaced the drawer that Neal had removed. 

Neal shrugged and tightened his fingers around the little red car. He had no idea what to say now, and it wasn't often that he found himself at a loss for words. It was happening with more and more frequency though, and he didn't like that.

"Come and sit down, boys," Reese said, when the silence stretched on a little too long again.

Neal went back to the same chair he'd first sat in, and Michael exchanged a look with Reese as he sat down near his father. "What?" Neal asked.

"You used to sit there all the time as a kid and 'read' your books." Michael used air-quotes when he said read, which caused Elizabeth to laugh. 

She pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself. "Sorry. I just got the cutest mental image of a little Neal with a book in his hands."

"We have pictures," Reese said, getting up and going to the bookshelf in the corner. "Michael, did your mother- Oh, wait, here they are." He rejoined them but handed the photo album to Neal. "I should have shown these to you a couple of days ago. I'd actually forgotten about them."

"Thanks," Neal said, gingerly opening it to the first page. The opening pages were of two babies, one with a blue cap and one with a pink cap, in nursery room bassinets. The two kids got progressively older the more he flipped the pages and were sometimes joined by an older boy, who had to be Michael. He looked to be about five years old when Neal and Emma were born, and he looked less than pleased in most of the pictures. There were a few where he was smiling, but Neal noticed that the opposite was more often true. 

When he got to the middle of the book where the twins were about three years old, there stopped being any pictures at all. The rest of the pages were completely blank. 

Neal set the album on the coffee table and pushed himself to his feet. He walked to the window and looked outside at the familiar street. So much had changed, but so much was still the same. He hated that the Hughes family had gone through such an awful ordeal, and he hated that he didn't know what to do or say to make it better. He wished he'd grown up in this house with this family, but that wasn't how his life had turned out. He just didn't know what to do.

When Reese moved to stand up and go after him, Peter put his hand out to stop his boss. "Give him a minute," Peter said quietly. 

Elizabeth, ever the hostess, turned her attention to Michael. "Hi, Michael. I'm Elizabeth, and this is my husband Peter. We're friends of Neal's."

"Hello," Michael replied politely, though one eye was still on Neal.

"Peter and Neal work with Reese in the White Collar unit, and I run my own event planning business. What do you do?"

The question was innocent, but the answer was ironic. "I'm a US Marshal."

Neal spun on his heel to gape at Michael. "You're a Marshal?"

"Not in New York, but yes, I am."

"So you know-"

"Who you are? Yeah. Even if Dad didn't talk about you at Thanksgiving, I'd still know who are." 

Neal's eyes cut over to Reese, who shrugged. "It's not all that often that we get CIs in the White Collar unit. I talked about having you in the office."

"He said that you were an asset but also a loose canon." Michael shrugged and used his thumb to indicate both himself and his father. "Don't worry. That kind of runs in the family."

Neal smirked. "Good to know."

"I'll tell you some stories one day. Until then, I wanted to thank you for helping Emma. I was tested but wasn't a close enough match to ensure her recovery. It means a lot that you stepped up to help her, even with all of the rest of this going on."

"I had to go through with it after I was matched to her," Neal replied. "I wouldn't say no to saving someone's life. And I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm glad that your family can have the peace of mind of knowing what happened to that little boy." He pointed to the photo album.

"We're your family too. You _are_ that little boy." Michael was confused by Neal's statement.

"No, I'm not. I haven't been Daniel Hughes since I was three years old, and I can't just go back to that. I'm not that person." Neal crossed his arms over his chest and looked from Michael to Reese and back again. "You all want me to be, but I'm not. I'm sorry."

"Neal, It's okay," Reese put his hands out in a placating gesture and stood up. "No one expects anything from you."

"You do. You and Cathy and Emma and Michael. All of you." Neal was barely holding himself together, and he didn't want to fall apart in front of these people. He gave them all a wide berth as he hurried out of the room and out the front door. He didn't even hesitate at the gate, just pushed it open and turned left and kept walking.

A few minutes later, he stumbled upon a small park. Since it was late afternoon, there weren't many people there and even fewer kids on the swings, slides and monkey bars. Neal sat down and squirmed to get comfortable. His back was aching again; he'd done too much today, and he hadn't taken any pain medication since the night before. 

Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths. The urge to cry faded as his heart calmed and his body rested. Feeling better, he opened his eyes and looked around the park. He had that weird sense of déjà vu again as his mind flashed back to the past, to the same park when he was three years old. There had once been a sandbox about fifteen feet from the bench, and Neal had played there often with Emma. It was so strange, the disjointed memories of a childhood long forgotten. 

Michael paused at the entrance to the park. He hadn't known that Neal would come here, but he'd had a pretty strong feeling it could happen, and he'd offered to go check on him. He hadn't been this park in years, and now all the bad memories rushed back to him fast enough to cause his head to spin. 

He took a deep breath and moved to sit next to Neal on the bench. "This is where it happened. Do you… remember?"

Neal shook his head and glanced at the older man. Michael's face betrayed the raw pain and guilt he felt, and Neal almost reached out to him.

"You and Emma were three, and I was almost eight. Mom used to bring us here all the time. Anyway, I was in a bad mood that day. We'd missed the ice cream cart by five minutes, and I had saved up my allowance for a Nutty Buddy bar. Anyway, you were over there." He pointed to a spot in the grass. "There used to be a sandbox. And Emma all of the sudden had to pee. She couldn't wait, and you didn't want to leave, and it was turning into a big fight, so Mom told me to watch you. I was sitting here, playing a handheld football game and not paying any attention." He paused and took a shaky breath.

Neal did reach out then and lay a hand on Michael's shoulder. He had no words for his brother, but he could offer this small comfort.

"You were right there, and then when I looked back up, you were gone. I checked everywhere, all over the park, but you had just vanished. When Mom came back, she thought it was a joke, that we were pulling a prank on her." He looked over at Neal then with tears burning his eyes and said, "I'm so sorry. I should have been watching you. I'm sorry."

Neal didn't hesitate to close the distance between them and pull Michael into a firm hug. "It's not your fault. You were a kid, and you didn't know. I'm okay. It's okay."

Michael couldn't say anything past the lump in his throat, but he held Neal tightly, wishing that he'd done this when they were kids. That he'd made Danny come and sit beside him on the bench until their mom got back from the house. That he'd gone to play with him in the sand even though that was a little kid thing. That he'd made any other choice besides taking his eyes off his little brother.

They were still hugging when Reese, Peter and Elizabeth entered the park. El dug a pack of tissues out of her purse and handed it to Neal when the boys parted. He took one and handed it off to Michael before turning away to blow his nose and wipe his eyes. 

"Do you feel better?" Elizabeth asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular. 

Neal looked at his brother and waited for him to nod before he did so as well. 

"We should go back to the house," Michael said as he stood up. "It looks like it's going to rain."

Neal tried to push himself up but his back and hip had stiffened up, and he fell back to the bench with a gasp of pain.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Michael leaned over him and Neal reached up to push him out of his personal space so that he could breathe through the pain for a moment. 

"He's only a couple days out from the bone marrow donation," Peter explained, "so he's still stiff and sore sometimes. He'll be okay in a minute." He walked around the bench to stand on Neal's other side with his hand extended to help the younger man to his feet whenever Neal was ready to try again.

Neal reached up and took Peter's hand immediately, knowing he wouldn't feel better until he was on his feet and moving around again. Peter eased him up while Michael hovered at Neal's opposite elbow and Reese held his hands out instinctually, like he could stop Neal from falling if he were close enough. 

Elizabeth threaded her arm through Reese's and tugged him toward the park entrance. Peter and Michael had Neal, and there wasn't anything Reese could do, so she decided to distract him. "You were saying that you wanted to have a big family dinner this Thanksgiving. I happen to know the caterer that makes the best honey-glazed roasted turkey in the city, and I think this is early enough to get it set up."

Peter pulled Neal's arm over his shoulder while Michael did the same on his other side. They fell into step behind Elizabeth and Reese as they made their way back to the Hughes home. 

Neal pulled away once he felt steady enough on his own two feet. He hadn't protested Michael's help, but he didn't like leaning on anyone, especially people, even long-lost brothers, that he'd known for less than an hour. 

When Reese and Elizabeth started up the walk to the house, Neal cleared his throat. "I hate to say it, but I'm pretty tired. Can we go?"

Reese and Michael both looked alarmed, but Peter was quick to respond. "Sure. We're planning on heading to the hospital tomorrow morning to see Emma. Maybe you guys will be there?"

Reese nodded and moved back toward Neal. He wanted to go for a hug but didn't think Neal would allow it. Instead, he clapped him gently on the shoulder and said, "Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks for coming," Michael said. "See you tomorrow."

Neal nodded and turned on his heel to cross the street back to the Taurus. Peter and Elizabeth followed him, holding hands, unsure of what to say or how to help him after the emotions of the day. Neal had shown his emotions far too much recently and probably wanted to retreat to pull himself together. Peter wanted to recommend that he see a shrink but hadn't quite figured out how best to present that to Neal. 

Once they were in the car, headed back to Brooklyn, Peter looked into the rearview mirror for a moment to see Neal fidgeting with the buttons on his suit jacket. His head was leaned back against the headrest, and he was gazing out the window with a faraway look. 

"Neal?"

"Hmm?" he rolled his head and met Peter's eyes in the mirror. 

Peter glanced at El, who gave him a displeased look and turned in her seat so that she could see Neal. "We're concerned about you, sweetie. This past week and a half has been kind of crazy and overwhelming."

 _Understatement of the year,_ Neal thought to himself but didn't interrupt.

"If you don't feel comfortable talking to me or Peter or both of us, that's okay. But we think that you should talk to someone."

Neal frowned at that. Clearly, they'd been talking about him when he wasn't around, which was frustrating enough. They were also so sure that he couldn't deal with all of this on his own. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

"Oh, sweetie." Elizabeth tilted her head and reached back to place a hand on his knee. "No, you're not."

Before he could reply, Peter spoke up. "The past three months have been rough for you Neal, with Kate and the plane, prison, and Fowler. Now, this Hughes thing. It's a lot for anyone to deal with. We're not trying to insult you or make you mad. We're concerned, and we want you to be okay."

Neal hated that he was stuck in the car, that he couldn't leave this conversation, and that they were forcing him to face things that he didn't want to face. He hadn't been sure that he would survive Kate's death, especially when he'd been whisked away to lockup and then prison within minutes of the plane exploding. It had taken him days to realize where he was and what had happened. 

Then, Peter had gotten him released again, with the same deal, the same radius, and Neal had still been struggling to keep it together. They'd followed the trail of evidence to Fowler, and he'd been so focused on hurting Fowler, on doing something to him to make him understand just how badly Neal hurt, that he hadn't had time to do much else. When he'd finally gone after Fowler, Peter had been there, bringing him back from the brink of ruining the rest of his life with a murder conviction. It would have felt so good to shoot Fowler, but Peter had stopped him, but he didn't feel any better for Fowler being behind bars. It was a never-ending cycle of bullshit, and Neal wanted off the ride. 

And then, he got the news that he was Reese Hughes' long lost son. What was that? The universe's way of laughing at him. Some karmic retribution for all the cons and schemes and scams he'd pulled over the years? He didn't hate the idea of having a family; he didn't even hate the idea of having Hughes for family. It was the fact that they so clearly remembered a little boy that had never grown up, a little boy that would never grow up. The path had diverged and Daniel Hughes had given way to Neal Winters and then Neal Caffrey, Nick Halden, Steve Tabernackle, and every other person that Neal had made up in an effort to figure out who he was. 

He should have been Daniel Hughes. He should have grown up in that house on West 84th, with Emma and Michael, and the money and privileges that came with it. With two parents who loved him and supported him and didn't lay a hand on him in anger. 

Tears were threatening when he looked away from Elizabeth and Peter, back out at the city that he loved so much because he'd always belonged here. "Okay," he whispered.

"Okay?" Elizabeth questioned, not sure if he was agreeing with Peter or answering her.

"I'll see someone," he clarified, just as quietly.

It took him a couple of days, but he finally made an appointment with a psychologist that Mozzie vetted for him. He also started spending time after work at the hospital with Emma so that he could get to know her better, and every other weekend Michael showed up in Emma's room and challenged them to a board game tournament or brought movies for them to watch together. 

Reese and Cathy tried their best to give him space, but they wanted to get to know him too. Emma and Michael helped out when they could, inviting their parents to join in the games or other weekend activities. By the time Emma was released from the hospital, Neal was getting comfortable with all of them, but he still pulled away when things got too familiar.

Thanksgiving would be the first big family dinner, and Reese had invited Peter and Elizabeth. He wanted to thank them for all they'd done to help Neal, and he wanted Neal to be as relaxed as possible with everyone. Peter and Elizabeth meant a lot to his son, and Reese knew that he meant a lot to them too.

Family is not guaranteed, and it's neither selected nor inherited. Neal had run away from one family as a teenager, only to gain two – a close group of friends and a biological family he didn't know existed. As much as he felt overwhelmed by them all sometimes, he was proud to have them in his life. 

~End

**Author's Note:**

> There are many people to thank for this one, and I will not name them because I've been working on this story for a long time, my memory is pretty crappy, and I would not forgive myself if I missed anyone. To everyone who encouraged me to keep at this story, I owe you a very deep gratitude. There were times that I wanted to give up, and you just wouldn't let me. Much love to you all!


End file.
